


Love and Sex and Magic

by Roseus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, POV Natasha Romanov, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, nat low key has her comicverse super soldier abilities, past sexual exploitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roseus/pseuds/Roseus
Summary: Natasha was trained for assassination, for stealth, for manipulation, for battle. But the exodus of the Asgardians brings her something she's not prepared for at all- The Enchantress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing started off as a joke vis a vis avac but I got in too deep and Thor Ragnarok gave me the perfect prequel to how they would actually meet and from then on I had no choice man. So let's go on a ride! femme fatale/femme fatale! Costco! Trauma! Natasha getting what she deserves! coming to a screen near you.

The world was in chaos. It had been for a good few decades. The creation of the super soldier serum seemed to have a cascading effect. After that point planet earth had had only moments, single breaths of peace. If it wasn’t aliens, it was robots. If it wasn’t robots, it was politics. It was well enough acknowledged that something else was always coming.  
Still, what can you do? Natasha could remember many occasions when marks knew she was coming. They could barricade themselves. Set alarms, hire guards. Keep guns under their pillows. But none of that was any obstacle. They were just vague barriers to the idea of a human threat. It had nothing to do with her. Preparing for disasters in the post avengers world was something like that. You could throw up the all precautions you like, but if you don’t know what you’re preparing for, what’s the use? Instead, it was their job to handle disasters as they came.  
But there were some things even they couldn’t handle. They shouldn’t. If only she could get that through Stark’s thick skull.  
In the dead of December, Thor’s asgardian arc had plopped out of the sky with no warning. Proximal alarms blared as its descent kicked up drifts of snow, making visible a wide net of red laser grid. Still, it landed unflinchingly and out stepped Thor, looking like he was back from a refreshing winter vacation and not a two-year period of radio silence. He cut his hair.  
Natasha was watching with detached amusement. It was 3 am but she only needed 4 hours of sleep and going to bed around the same time as everyone (those that slept, anyways) was her form of being.... social. So she was the first to catch sight of it all. Thor was back and his entrance was inescapable as always. Sure. But then, from behind him stepped Loki. Without looking she pulled up a holographic panel and sent a lockdown command through the compound. Not a full one... yet. But behind Loki was another asgardian she didn’t know, and then another, and another...  
Oh boy.  
A stream of ragged asgardians flooded out of the ship and into the snow. A small city-state’s worth. Children kicked up new flurries. It looked like they hadn’t seen snow before. It made her smile. But it was by no means stopping her from slamming Tony’s emergency call button. Behind her, vision phased through the wall. Since he was keyed into the alarm systems, he would have received the lockdown alert instantaneously.  
Natasha pointed out the window. “I don’t like this.” What was this, Noah’s ark?  
Vision tilted his head, looking at a loss. “It’s concerning, to say the least.” A small beep came from somewhere on his person, and as he raised his wrist a screen materialized above it. It was Tony. He looked dead on his feet.  
“What’s going on out there?”  
Nat sighed. “You can just go back to bed.”  
“Excuse me? I’m not gonna just-“  
Vision hung up, surprising even Nat. “While Mr. Stark is getting ready, shall we go visit?”  
“Alright.”  
Outside, it wasn’t that cold. Nowhere near the winters of her childhood, at least. But she must have been getting soft, because it was still bothering her. She didn’t show any outward signs, and vision of course didn’t notice, so they must have looked fairly at ease to the asgardians. Maybe they would start thinking that Midgard was always like this- silent, cold, and bright white. From among them, Thor jogged over to meet them, visibly shivering. “Hello! It’s a beautiful night. Still not used to this,” he said, kicking at the snow.  
“Thor. What’s going on.” Her tone had an obvious edge. He smiled guiltily.  
“Asgard has had a bit of an incident. More of a...minor world ending. My people need a place to stay, and, well,” he shrugged. Was Asgard gone? It was a world much older than theirs. What had happened? Thor was giving no sign that they were in any present danger, but they all looked worse for wear. Asgard, a beacon of prosperity and power, and their home, had been destroyed. She guessed that was to be expected.  
Just then Tony rose out of the compound in full gear. His repulsors seared bright blue into the pitch black sky. In a second he was landing beside Vision. Really, it was too damn early for him to be this showy.  
In a second, he picked out Loki in the crowd. “Oh no, none of that!”  
Loki elbowed Thor. “I told you.”  
But well, Nat was a humanitarian at heart. She had fought tooth and nail for her right to help other people. She had sprung hell and slaughtered the devil to become a good person. Maybe she was there and maybe she wasn’t, but she was if nothing else a humanitarian. And these weren’t humans, but she could still see what was going on here. People need a home. Natasha understood that well from its absence in her own life. She was not about to let Loki be the reason these people didn’t get a home.  
“I’ll handle it.” Natasha said. With that, she grabbed Loki’s wrist. He looked offended, but with a little crushing pressure he came along agreeably. Natasha sat them down on the porch and took a moment to collect herself.  
“Listen. A spider has eight eyes. Even if two aren’t looking at you, there will be six others that are. So know that if you try something there will be four seconds between the thought forming and the separation of your head from your body. That’s all.”  
Loki hummed. “Light, all things considered.” He paused. “As of this moment I’m... working alongside my brother for the sake of Asgard. So while I know you and all midgardians will not trust it, I am not a threat. For now.” He smirked.  
Nat was glad to hear it. If he was telling the truth, she wished him godspeed. If not, it was nothing she wasn’t already preparing for. Potential benefits and no losses.  
Tony motioned her over, and Loki disappeared instantly in the crowd. “Can I trust you with Loki?” Tony asked. She nodded.  
“Of course.”  
“Alright then, you’re on dickwad detail. Vision, get these people inside. I’ve got calls to make.”  
Wait. Nat realized that only a second ago she was touting good will to all but they were just going to stay in the compound? In her home? This was not an avengers problem. This is a mini refugee crisis. Tony can’t seriously intend to just- but of course he does.  
Natasha was about done. Loki had already disappeared. She walked back into the foyer and grabbed a matchbox from the old mahogany cabinet by the window. Stark kept it classy sometimes. Nat walked into a room just off the main hall and dragged a chair to face the incoming herd of people. She struck a match and tossed in the fireplace, only to belatedly remember that it was electric. She flicked the on switch, somewhat hoping no one had noticed, and settled in to watch the raggedy parade. The compound was perfectly monitored. She could just rewatch the security footage later, and she would, but she preferred to see with her own eyes. Still, it would take a while. It kind of made her wish she still smoked. Not like it could hurt her anyways. But that was something she kept close to the chest, so when Steve had gotten all concerned for her health she dropped the habit, even though in the forties his friends were probably all chain smokers themselves.  
Beautiful people continued to stream through the hall. She scanned over them as they went. None of them had any weapons on them. None of them were acting like threats. They just seemed baffled. All the better for her. She saw a flash of green and called out. “Loki!”  
When he stepped out he wasn’t alone. Hanging off his arm was a woman. In fact, she was much more conspicuous than Loki. Nat physically had a hard time looking away from her- it was apparent that she was using some sort of glamour. Her hair was blonde and flowed like liquid. Her eyes were pure black, and her lips were a plush pink. She looked half asleep. And she was oozing sexuality.  
Here’s a secret. Natalia Romanov is a virgin. Or at least, she considers herself to be. She’s had sex of course, she’s a master seductress. But it was always a tool. The red room trained her in using her body to disarm targets. She was the perfect actress. The angle of the hip, the cant of the chin, built into a web to snare important men. She went to bed with them, and then tortured them, shot them, whatever needed to be done. Her body had belonged to mother Russia. If the red room wanted her to fuck, she fucked.  
After defecting, she was still too devoted to work to think of doing anything because she wanted to. She was free. Life was good. She was fine just being shield’s weapon. It was only after the formation of the avengers that she spent so much time inactive with comrades- being cared for by friends, that she had started to grow into actually wanting things. Warm clothes, bliny, movies, vodka. At some point, she realized that she had never had sex because she wanted to. She had laughed. ‘In a way, I’m almost a virgin.’ The thought was so soft. It made her happy, somehow. So, she kept it. That’s the kind of woman Natasha actually was.  
What Natasha pretended to be, this woman was. Everything about her screamed ‘touch me!’ Lips too puffy to just be that way naturally. Delicate collarbones shifting under smooth skin. The more obvious fact that she was very clearly wearing only a tunic and had just exited twenty-degree weather. She slunk into the room, unguarded, uncaring. She had an all-consuming air of seduction, and not a single chink to indicate it was a disguise.  
The enchantment that was forcibly pulling her eyes to her broke after a few seconds. Still, it was hard not to stare. Loki wasn’t having any problems, though. He actually looked irritated.  
“Black Widow, this is my acquaintance Amora.” It occurred to Natasha Loki did not know her name.  
“Acquaintance? Don’t be so cold!” Amora’s voice was musical and clear and surprisingly assertive. “You learned half of your sorcery from me, and you treat me like this.”  
Loki sneered, “My apologies. This is the grand Amora, feller of giants, idol of warriors, master of sorcery, the enchantress.” Amora smiled pleasantly.  
“Natasha.” Natasha grunted. Loki threw her a confused glance. Fuck. What was she, a pokemon? Natasha realized she’d lost track of the flow of asgardians. She was going to be rewatching that footage for quite a while. She mentally shook herself. “Loki, scale of one to ten. How much of a concern is she?” She could see his mind processing. Smugness was dawning on his face like a new day.  
He smiled and without looking, presented his hand to Amora with a flourish. “Eleven.”  
Natasha’s watch beeped. She pressed its home button and a tiny, exhausted Tony appeared on the screen. “Team huddle in the conference room on three. Please.”  
“Let’s meet our host, shall we?” Loki said. Natasha rubbed her eyes. The last of the crowd had made it in, so she motioned them to the elevator. Amora looked skeptical of it. Inside, she looked like she was about to say something when it started to ascend. Instantly, her hand shot forward. Natasha grabbed her wrist as a conditioned response. Her hand burned like she had touched a live wire. Green light had flared up around Amora’s hand. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing Thor there waiting for them.  
“Ah, yes. No worries, it’s supposed to do that. It goes up and down.” Amora stopped whatever she had been doing, and slipped out of Nat’s grasp with an unapologetic smile. Immediately, she slid to Thor’s side.  
In the conference room, Tony was already on his second outfit change of the morning in a full business suit. At the end of the table, another Asgardian woman in partial armor was seated. Thor pulled out a swivel chair that looked comically small in comparison to him. Natasha stood. Tony began speaking unprompted, a belated sign that he was actually still on a conference call. It didn’t sound like it was going well. He kept repeating that ‘we can make it work’. Finally he hung up, looking grim.  
After a moment of tense silence, Thor spoke up. “Where is the rest of the team? Is there a mission?” Tony paled. Nat bit her lip and laughed bitterly.  
Tony spoke. “We can talk about this later,” Thor opened his mouth, “No, we can talk about this later. Right now we have to find bedding for a thousand. Do we have a solid headcount?”  
“one thousand six hundred and thirty-two.” Thor said. Somewhere on Tony something vibrated. He motioned them to be quiet as he greeted someone on another line.  
“Cynthia! Am I glad to hear from you. There’s been a bit of a hiccup over here at casa del avengers, and I know, this isn’t great timing…” Nat tuned out after a moment. Letting information go was something she would never have been able to do in the past. But it was a skill you developed when the alternative was listening to Tony Stark twenty-four seven. She took the time to examine their guests instead. Loki looked ready to die of boredom. The Asgardian woman was eyeing a vintage on the shelves. Thor was awkwardly leaning away from Amora, who was leaning heavily into him.  
“…You’re a life saver. Ciao.” Tony finally hung up. “Okay. Alright. Hey to all the new faces here, I’m Tony Stark, leader of the Avengers.” Nat had to try so hard not to roll her eyes she thought she pulled something. “Great to meet all of you. As we’ve seen tonight, making connections is important.” He punctuated this by slinging his phone on the table. “Thor and I talked, and the ship they came on was significantly over capacity. I have seventeen shelters on the line but no one’s jumping to take hundreds of people on zero days’ notice. The department of damage control is going to coordinate some temporary housing in the next week. But for the next few days we’re on our own.  
Right now, what we need the most is food and blankets. I’m calling some wholesale distributers but It might take a while, so I’d like to get today and tonight accounted for. The regional director of Costco is sending someone to let us in for a quick shopping trip. I can’t go. Thor can’t go. Vision is keeping track of all our monitoring systems, which we kind of need right now, no offense. So that’s you, Nat.”  
“No. Tony, I’m occupied.” She gestured to Loki.  
“I know. He can stay.”  
“Tony--”  
“I don’t want this either, but do you have a better idea? I can’t call Peter, he’s fifteen. He can’t drive.”  
“We have people for this.”  
“Not who have the clearance to know what’s going on. Thor can keep track of his brother. It’ll be fine.” It sounded forced.  
“Fine.” Nat sighed. Maybe she should have held firmer, but she would be glad to not be in the compound right now. Just then, Tony got another call. She wasn’t about to wait, so she left.  
She took a transport van. As one might expect for four a.m., the roads were clear. Aside from the occasional snow plow, there was no sign of life. It was quiet and dark as dark could be. It was wonderful. She set the heat on high. Yellow light from tungsten street lights passed over and over and over. It wasn’t snowing at the moment, but it looked like it might. The sky was starless and heavy. She should probably try and get back before it did.  
It was a kind of moment that she had been conditioned to think of as rest. A moment of unthinking and unmoving where she could store energy for her next action. While the definition had begun to blur in her mind, it still felt indulgent. It was nice. Warm and dark and empty.  
“I thought that frown was permanent.”  
Nat slammed on the breaks, veering off onto the side of the road. In a second she had one hand on the wheel, and another gripping a pistol pointed at Amora’s forehead. Amora poked it.  
“Is this a weapon?” She said.  
“Yes. How did you get in here?” It was finally happening. Nat was slipping. How had she not sensed her?  
“I was a snake.”  
“You sure were.” Nat glared at her. Great. A volatile chaos element, just hitching a ride to Costco. Jesus. She had to contain this.  
“No.” Amora scrunched her nose. Then, there was a flash of green light. Where Amora had been, a long garden snake was coiling itself around the headrest. Nat didn’t jump. But inside her gut plummeted. Shape shifting. She was the foremost tracker in the world. But that was on the assumption of a human target. Even what she knew about animal tracking would only be useful if Nat knew what form she was in. And who knows what she was capable of becoming. If she could fly, that was quite actually end of story. Covertly, she slid her hand to the door and put on the child safe lock. Truly- if you don’t know what to expect, preparation is useless.  
She could turn around. But Amora seemed willful. Who knows what she was capable of if she didn’t get what she wanted. On top of that, it was predictable. She could very well be playing right into her hands. Nat had to keep control of the situation. Besides, they needed these supplies. She holstered her pistol and pulled back on to the road. In the rear-view mirror, she could see Amora was back in her humanoid form. She looked a little confused. Good.  
“You pulled the short stick here. You would have had much better luck trying to break out when I was gone. If I can’t contain you, no one can.” Natasha said.  
Slowly, Amora smiled. Nat had been around too long to let that phase her. She floored it, causing Amora to slam against her seat. Amora cursed in another tongue. Nat payed no mind. She kept her eyes on the road, where it dissolved into darkness.  
They were pulling into the parking lot in twenty minutes. Nat had to take her in. It was a logistical nightmare, but there was no other option. She opened her door and walked around to Amora’s. Nat opened it and held out her hand to help her out. Amora took it, but not without letting her condescension show on her face. With her free hand, she handcuffed their wrists together. It was an old and inelegant trick, but sometimes analogue was best.  
Amora was furious. “What is this?!”  
“Insurance. If you try to get out of these, we go home. Come on.”  
Natasha started walking. Amora didn’t follow at first, but Natasha had more muscle strength in her pinky than she probably had in her whole arm. Amora was stumbling behind her while Nat’s arm was still at parallel with her body. Amora quickly kept pace with her in order to save face.  
An exhausted managerial type was waiting out front. He seemed alarmed at the handcuffs, but probably didn’t get payed enough to really care. Besides, she was an avenger. You don’t ask questions when they came knocking. He unlocked the door, and it slid open. The lights flickered on, washing everything in an all-consuming fluorescent light. She asked the manager to grab a forklift. They weren’t going to be using a grocery cart, after all. Stark had texted her a grocery list a mile long. Not liking how Amora was eyeing the jewelry section, she made a beeline for the stockroom.  
The manager came back on a forklift. Nat spotted a half empty palette of ten pound bags of rice. It was tucked behind the rebar of the shelf, inaccessible to the forklift. Starting with that would kill three birds with one stone. One, rice was a cheap, well rounded food source. Two, the palette could serve as a base for anything else she was buying. She squatted down and deadlifted the palette. Three, it was a show of brute strength that would keep Amora on her toes. If she could just keep her cautious, Amora would have to wait it out for an opportunity. Natasha would make sure they were in and out before there was one.  
She dropped the rice in the aisle. The impact made as much sound as one would expect. Amora’s eyes widened, and Natasha turned away, smirking. “This one, Mac, and then we’re going to the freezer.”  
The palette quickly became a perilous stack of foodstuffs of all kinds. It wasn’t like Costco had much in the way of fresh produce, but they had practically everything frozen. On top of that, she added some industrial bags of flour and sugar. And then trail mix and protein bars for the hell of it (“what are those? Is Midgard really so joyless that this is considered food?”). The more fragile items weren’t going to hold up to this nutrition jenga, so she asked the manager to bring her a separate grocery cart. She filled it with milk, eggs, and butter and then pushed it into Amora’s hands. “Do you really expect me to labor for you?” Natasha didn’t give her time to think, she just kept walking, dragging Amora with her.  
She stopped in front of the poultry. Buying meat was a tough call, but the Asgardians looked like protein was a priority in their diet. While she was considering it, she felt the cuffs go limp. Natasha’s heart dropped. A quick scan proved what she already knew: Amora was out of sight. Silently, she shimmied her way up the shelving, looking directly at the door. It didn’t take long to get what she wanted- a single click, heel strike on linoleum, at about five o clock. She slid back to the floor, heading down the aisles, senses on alert. On the end of aisle fourteen, the edge of some cling wrap on a stack of soap cartons was turned back where it hadn’t been before. Got her. Natasha slid through the shelving, grabbing a gold adorned wrist.  
Nat sighed. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” She slipped into the aisle and clapped the handcuffs back on Amora’s wrist. She gaped. “Come on. It’s time to go.”  
“How-”  
Nat shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. We’re leaving.” She grabbed her hand.  
“Oh my. I didn’t take you for the handholding type.” Amora purred.  
In spite of her higher thinking, Natasha flinched. Amora saw it, of course, and smiled. Natasha had no choice but to double down. She flashed a predatory smile in response. “Don’t be ridiculous. Endearments are a farce. What matters is trust, and you broke mine. Now, if you break this hold before I do,” Natasha pause, letting the thought hang. This was her moment to control. “you don’t need to ask what will happen.”  
Amora looked at her coolly, reading her. But in the end she complied. In the parking lot the manager loaded the palette into the back, and Natasha unlocked the handcuffs, giving Amora a hand up into the truck. She was still quiet. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a run around after all. She released her hand and slammed the door. She slid into the driver’s side and the manager gave her a thumbs up. With that, she peeled out of the lot, headed back to security at top speed.  
Natasha had kept the target secure and managed to move supplies back to base in about two hours. Not bad at all. But this day was just beginning. It would be daylight hours soon, and the dawn would bring press conferences, new problems, old problems. Nat couldn’t do anything about it except stay sharp, so she kept her eyes on the road and her mind on her goal. If she could just keep their guests in check, avoid any incidents-  
“Midgard may be more prosperous than I had thought. On Asgard wealth is shown in gold and fabrics finer than water. But these are a rare sight indeed.” Amora murmured.  
In her hand, she held a diamond necklace. As she spoke, the jewels lit up with blood red and gold, bouncing light all throughout the cab. It was the sunrise, breaching over the edge of the earth.


	2. Chapter 2

When Natasha arrived back at the compound, her higher sympathies had checked out. She dumped Amora on Loki, who had been dumped on Thor. Amora looked downright smug until Natasha held up the necklace she had pickpocketed her. Nat could only hope that it was all Amora took. She jetted off to find Tony before Amora could try to get it back.  
He’s still in the conference room, albeit sitting down now. He has his laptop and wallet out. Nat whistles for his attention. “Supply run is done. Sent you the e receipt. However, there was a complication.”  
Tony combs his hair with his hand, jaw clenched. “Lovely. What’s up?”  
“I had a stowaway.” Tony pales. “I thought- understand, Tony, she’s back and she’s secure. I thought I had it under control. But I lost her, for just a second.” Natasha spits. She drops the necklace in front of him. “Someone is going to have to return this. But not until the compound is one hundred percent secure. I will make this right. I swear to you.”   
“Natasha...” many things fought and settled inside Tony’s eyes. “If she got by you for a moment, thems the breaks.” He doesn’t say anything else, but Natasha knows the meaning of things unsaid. The words of her consequences do not come. She will not be hurt, and she will not be replaced. But these things lie deep in memory, and are hard to uproot. “For now, you’re relieved of babysitting duty. I need all hands on deck just keeping this place together.” Nat’s fingernails bit into her palm. Without any other exchange of words, she leaves him.  
There were times Natasha got to play with the workshop. It was fine, but Natasha was better at taking things apart than putting them together. She spends the rest of the evening creating a simple infrared scanner for the garage. By the time it’s installed it’s far too late into the night. It doesn’t matter to her. She keeps working, and by the morning the compound may as well be airtight. Still, she needs confirmation.   
She speaks to Loki. He’s shockingly cooperative. Mostly, she just wants to know if the lockdown specs will be enough to handle actual magic. The answer is, unsurprisingly, no.   
“The only thing that will stop magic is magic. With the right spellwork I could seal the area myself.”  
“Absolutely not.” Natasha replies immediately. He simply rolls his eyes, and refers her to another Asgardian mage among them.  
He finds her a man named Tyr. He’s old, maybe as old as Odin, but stately and solid. He wears his long white hair braided in intricate knots, and cloaks cover his body from head to toe. Only his right hand was exposed, with which he gripped a wooden staff. In other words, he was comically wizard like. All he was missing was a pointy blue hat. Natasha walks him to the gate, and with his staff he traces a symbol, centering on what looks like an up arrow. Natasha almost thinks he didn’t really do anything, but when she looks up, the sky is almost a different color. It hadn’t actually changed, but it was somehow like looking at an optical illusion.   
“No magic will pass through this barrier, in or out.” Tyr explains.   
“Thank you.”  
When they return, Natasha finds Amora in the main hall with three Asgardian men tending to her. It’s like a scene from a high school drama where all the boys are tripping over the most popular girl in school. Except, their eyes are suspiciously glazed. When she sees Natasha, she casually but quickly dismisses them. It’s not fast enough. Amora’s back makes a lovely thunk as it hits the wall.  
Natasha has a zero brainwashing tolerance policy. Losing your will feels like freefall. When Natasha was a weapon, they stuck her with needles and filled her blood with serum, steroids, and things that made her easy to control. Her feelings happened outside of her body at that point. They revolved. She felt terror so strong she could taste it in her mouth. The emptiness of powerlessness in her own head. Resignation in the face of the inevitable, just waiting for the fall to come to its quick end. But it never did. Instead she became more and more numb. She was a stunning success.  
And then what happened? If there was something special, she’s forgotten. It was like waking up after passing out. In a faint, your senses and ability to think progressively go out. Waking up just does it in reverse. At the beginning, your brain can’t process anything. You have no memories, no sight. So if there was someone who told her that she was not a thing, or something she saw that made her want to live, she doesn’t remember it at all. Can you imagine restarting your own brain by hand? It would have been easier to cut off her own legs. Her head was on pins and needles for months. All of the emotions she had killed rose again, and she had to walk through them backwards without ever letting it show on her face, or she would be disposed of instantly. She had to undo her own conditioning, ripping apart her own psyche. All of this slowly, hand over bare hand. Natasha would not tolerate brainwashing.   
Natasha’s forearm presses into Amora’s throat. “I knew you were a two-faced bitch but I didn’t peg you as utter scum. How dare you bring this shit into my home.” Tyr places a hand on Natasha’s shoulder, but she would not step down. This anger is her own emotion, which she had fought tooth and nail to have.   
However, she had also fought for control of herself. She lets the rage drain from her body, dissolving into stillness and resolve. This was a task like any other.   
Amora thumped her fist against Natasha’s arm. She would lose consciousness soon. Her boot heels scrabbled against hardwood floor, and for a second her leg brushes the inside of Natasha’s thigh. Without thinking, Natasha drops her like she’s been burned. Amora stands, flexing her shoulders back. She quirks a brow, looking down on her despite the bruise forming on her neck. Her head twists and she smirks. But before she can say anything, the end of Tyr’s staff touches her forehead. To Natasha’s eyes, nothing happens, but Amora grabs the yanks the staff, teeth bared.   
“What have you done to me, you old hack!” Tyr blinked and the staff slipped away from her, replacing itself in a strap across his back.   
“I’m keeping your mind in your mind, for now. Our people are vulnerable. I will not the insolence of our youth upset our hosts.” Tyr said, already turning away. “She’ll not be able to impel others now. Rest easy, Widow-freyja.”  
Natasha’s emotions were pulling in too many directions. Usually she felt two, maybe three distinct emotions a day. Now that Amora was neutralized, again, she opted to skip the posturing and just get out of there as fast as possible. Amora blinked and she was gone.  
Natasha spends the rest of the day training. When she can’t move anymore, she sleeps for the first time in two days.

Natasha is woken by her phone buzzing. It’s 5:37 am, which counts as sleeping in for her. Her phone displays a key smash text message that she immediately recognizes as code. ‘Arwahreiiwaaracgiddrqwiisraride227” She has an idea of who it’s from. The giveaway is the numbers. She picks up the book on her night stand- The Devil in the White City- opens it to page 227 and counts out the first 26 letters. She writes them down on the back of a receipt, chipping away at the encoding.   
D a n c i n g m a s q u e r a d e r s w i t h t a m  
A b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z  
Arwahreiiwaaracgiddrqwiisraride  
\--t-w----t----dg-----kt---------  
She pinches her brow. What a godawful code. Only five letters could be confirmed. And they were pretty useless letters. Plus, A was the encryption of four separate characters. She had told him again and again but it seemed like he never tried these codes out, just wrote them and sent them. What a pain.   
She started with the first set of repeating i’s. I stood for e or u. Two i’s could be eu, ue, or ee. She went with ee, just because it was most likely before that t. This would make the e before almost certainly an m. She took the liberty of inserting bridge when she saw it fit.  
\--t-w-meet-bridge---kt---------  
It was either B I O or Y bridge. Only one of those was a real contender. The sequence ddrq could form park. Going back to the beginning, wahr, was most likely town, which meant ar could only possible be in.   
intownmeetbbridgeparkt---------  
The problem was (T)iisraride. It had to be a time. If it wasn’t the time she would have to skin him. After looking at it for a second she found a fit- tuesninepm.  
In town meet b bridge park tues nine pm. She smiled despite herself. It had been too long, and seeing a good friend was just what she needed. She had been far too unhinged these past few days. She took a breath and started plotting her first moves to make this work.  
Natasha stood up and stretched, cracking her neck. She paged through her closet, pulling on an unremarkable but practical set of black athleisure wear. Outside her room, the compound was still dark and empty. The sun hadn’t risen, and neither had the world’s mightiest heroes. She spoke. “Sara, turn blinds off.” The compound’s systems had always kept a default name. Tony couldn’t bear to try and replace Jarvis, even if Vision probably didn’t care.   
Her and the other active members’ rooms were in a separate wing that remained locked off. Natasha could look past some small security breaches here and there, but that was an absolute hard line. It was plain stupid to leave their innermost sanctum open for any curious alien to walk in. It also meant that they weren’t stuck in intensive lockdown like the rest of the compound. She felt like throwing open the windows, but it was also eight degrees outside. Instead she took a seat in the kitchen slash nook and started reviewing that security footage she never got around to.   
At some point, she got up and made tea. It was a good morning. Cool, but quiet, silky soft, and full of nothing. Before long the sun was coming up and new light was filling the room. Nat rubbed her eyes. The faces were running together, which meant it was time to stop. According to her watch, it was eight am. She switched over to tech news. According to wiremindz, some kid at MIT had just unveiled a neural net processor that could understand verbal instructions, almost on par with humans with its ability to pick up on tone and nuance. They were calling it true brain technology. She stored that away for the minute and started making breakfast.  
It ended up being pancakes and eggs, because meals around here were always quantity over creativity (though she wouldn’t go so far as to say quality). Once she had a good stack of pancakes going she called texted Thor and Tony and Vis. Vision showed up first, using the actual doors like a good boy. He smiles at her, maybe reflecting her own mood. He looks a little uncanny valley. Tony was next, looking like death. Natasha said nothing, just poured him some coffee and got out a big ceramic bowl. She had bought it herself, at some local crafts event. She planned on making scones to bring with on Tuesday. Baking was hell on her image, but this was their inner sanctum. No one was going to see. Just when she had sifted out the last of the dry ingredients, Thor showed up. He wasn’t alone. Nat’s jaw twitched.  
Loki sat in her armchair while Amora sidled up to Tony. She figured out who has power here pretty quick. Brunhilde took a stool an appropriate one seat away like a normal person. Thor smiled and shrugged guiltily. He had to do that too much lately. Someone was going to have to tell him that no, asking forgiveness is not better than asking permission. Not that she asked permission, but the point stood.  
“I don’t know if I have enough pancakes for all of you.” Nat said.   
“Oh, I’m not eating that.” Loki commented, nonplussed.  
Tony swallows his coffee. “Don’t worry, we can share.”  
Like hell she was making pancakes for uninvited, not to mention asshole guests. She didn’t even know why Loki was here if he wasn’t going to eat. Brunhilde was eating enough for the both of them. Amora was leaning heavily on the counter. When the neckline of her tunic dipped, Nat could see a red mark on her collar bone. Thor was quickly closing out the last of the pancakes.  
Nat hummed. “Tony, did you hear about that AI thing at MIT? Real brain or something…” she lilted.   
“True Brain. It’s incredible stuff. All the neural net processors out there right now are still lightyears away from being useful.” Vision looked at them pointedly. Tony babbled on about the principles and how amazing it was and how much coding was advancing and Nat could tell that she had him, hook line and sinker. She leaned into it, asking Tony what else was going on at MIT. Loki was looking at her a little too closely, but he didn’t have the information to connect the dots.   
They were out of pancakes. Damn celestial warriors. “Can’t we just make more?” Amora said. Natasha frowned noncommittally. She was busy. Instead of responding, she dumped her scone dough on a cooking sheet. But before she could form it, the bowl lifted into the air. “Whatever this cake is, it can’t be complicated.   
“Put that down-” as she says it, Tony’s gesticulating bumps Amora, and the bowl falls to the floor, shattering. Nat slams her fist on the table. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”  
“Woah, Hey! It’s okay Nat, we’ll buy you a new one.” Tony says.  
“Yeah, I’m sure we will Tony. I’m just over this.” She’s clenching her teeth as she says it. She needs to cool off.   
“Over what?”  
Nat says nothing as she leaves but throws Amora the kind of look that has made children cry.

Natasha fritters away the rest of the days until her rendezvous keeping tabs on security and setting ground work. She calls up the department of damage control- a particular committee head who was appointed after the Vulture incident to represent a kinder bureaucracy. It wasn’t working or anything, but Helen was nice. Nice was useful. She had the phone in one hand, and the other scrolling through the latest patches on the compound’s automated alert system’s coding. “-Yeah, we’re doing just fine out here! Your people are doing a fantastic job. So much for the slow season, am I right. It’s really taking it out of Tony though.” She said it with a pitch perfect impression of a sociable corporate wife, but her face wasn’t showing any emotion.  
Helen cooed. “Poor man. He works so hard”  
“Yes, and if he doesn’t take a break he’s just going to burn himself out. He passed out from sleep deprivation today! I think he might need an enforced vacation.”  
“Oh! I read you loud and clear.” Helen was glad to be trusted by the Black Widow. Someday this would ware off, but that only meant she would use it to the fullest while she could. When Tony needed to go away for a while, all it took was a call to Helen.  
Nat smiles, all fangs. “You’re a miracle worker, Helen. Just find him something he’ll need to do in person. You didn’t hear it from me, but I think he’d be very happy about going to the MIT area.” She leaned into the gossipy tone and Helen tittered and promised that she would find Tony a ‘day trip’ soon. When she finally hung up, Nat’s nose wrinkled. Speaking like that left a bad taste in her mouth. It was just further proof that she was getting spoiled with so little espionage work.   
The sensors on the exterior gates have been re encrypted, but the programming looks relatively the same. When she scrolls through it, she finds the same exploit as was there before. ‘You’re getting lazy, Stark’, she thinks.  
Tuesday morning, she makes a new batch of scones. The old ones got devoured, which she should have seen coming. She doesn’t see Loki or Amora all day. Fantastic. She spent the rest of the day sweeping the car and everything else she was taking for bugs, and planting a few of her own as insurance. For the first time in a while, her restlessness settled. Her nerves cooled and her mind zeroed in on the objective. She was functional, sleek, a finely crafted machine.   
That evening, she stopped in on Tony’s workshop, letting him know that she was going out. He looked both confused and like he wanted to object, but his pride, both in his leadership status and the compound’s security, kept his mouth shut. Before anyone could think about it too hard, she was out of the compound.   
Traffic wasn’t bad. At eight, everyone was leaving the city. But the bridge still gave her jitters. If she had the freedom, she would ditch the car after crossing into the city. Every way in and out of New York was monitored. Nat had heard the horror stories. Radiation from chemo patients shutting down a whole bridge, etcetera. Even worse, she had seen the schematics. But acting normal was the name of the game. Pretty soon she was cruising into downtown Brooklyn. She parked a good few blocks away from the waterfront, both for safety and because it was parking in the city. She passed just under the shadow of the bridge, past the ice cream place and the handball courts and the popup pool. They had been whipping this park into shape in the past few years, but the water still stunk. Yet if she looked up she would see the most expensive apartments in Brooklyn. The view, of course, was beautiful. Manhattan it up the sky burnt purple-orange, like it couldn’t bare to be black. Light shot out of the city like shrapnel.  
She found him on a bench in the greenway. Try as you might, it’s hard to disguise such sheer stature. She sits tucks her coat under and sits down beside him.  
“Hello Steve.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find my playlist for this fic [here](https://soundcloud.com/user-120695953/sets/the-serpent-and-the-apple)

Steve was wearing exactly the kind of disguise that could be expected from him. Sunglasses, hoodie, baseball cap. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was garbage.  
Steve said, “Hello.”  
“What brings you to New York?” Natasha asked.  
“A psychologist. The best of the best.” Nat smiled. Like they needed to leave Wakanda for a good psychologist.  
“What, not to see me?” She faux pouted, and he smiled.  
“That too. How’s work?”  
Natasha was proud of him, speaking covertly just like he was supposed to. “A nightmare. Our mutual blonde friend is back, and he brought the family.”  
“The family?” He scrunched up his nose, pushing up his sunglasses. Steve was a gentleman so he wouldn’t show it, but this kind of information was valuable. Natasha didn’t mind giving it to him. He wouldn’t abuse it. Steve and Tony weren’t really at war, they just both thought the other thought they were. This is what happens when you don’t communicate.  
“Everyone. The whole extended family. It’s like he brought a whole planet.” She waited for that to sink in. They fell silent as a couple of late night joggers passed by. “Even the little brother.”  
His eyebrows shot up. “Is- Isn’t that going to be a problem?”  
Natasha stared hard at the east river. “That’s the least of it. But it’s under control. Dear friends are finding them places to stay. They’ll be gone after tomorrow.” Thank god for that. They had made it through the week. Barely. Natasha had walled herself off from most of it, but she had still had to explain how the microwave works at least thirty times. Thor was looking more haggardly by the day. She could imagine why- he was being drawn and quartered with paperwork, Avengers briefings, and reading through the Sokovia accords, on top of being a king and all that entailed. (He was not happy with the accords. He didn’t understand human politics and berated Stark for letting something so trivial break the team apart. He thought the fighting was needless and petty, and in Natasha’s eyes he wasn’t wrong.)  
Tomorrow would be a week from the landing. The Asgardians would leave and Natasha could go back to her usual routine. Some part of her thought, routine of what, staring at a wall and rusting? But it was still better than dealing with Amora.  
“You should come visit. Who else is in town?” Nat asked.  
He ducked his head, grinning. “Pretty much everyone. No one wanted to stay back, you know?”  
“You can’t bring only one of your kids to Disney Land.” She said. He chuckled. “Bring them all. I’ll drop you a line when I have a solid date. It’ll probably be soon, so keep your schedule clear.”  
“You sure it’s alright? Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your hands.”  
Natasha let her head roll back, closing her eyes. “Not for long.”

The next morning, Tony got a call from the DDC. He is urgently needed in Michigan. That’s all the details he gives Natasha. She in turn calls Helen, to thank her.  
“Oh no, Miss Romanov, this was- this was the real deal. Um, an MIT student has reverse engineered the model 41 Iron Man suit.” Helen stammered. Natasha didn’t know if this was good or bad luck, but she was running with it. She texted Steve that tonight was the night, and waited.  
Natasha was as fired up as she could get. She took a drive to the local grocery store and picked up booze, chips, and other snacks. She hadn’t gone to any school, let alone college, but this was kind of what she imagined it was like. When she got back she realized she had yet to inform the team. Vision was stoked at the chance of seeing Wanda. When she found Thor, he was concerned about the logistics but mostly glad to let off some steam. Spirits were high.  
But hours passed and the DDC didn’t come. Around three Natasha called Helen again. There had been a delay. Apparently, Tony was having an aneurism over it. Natasha bit her lip. She had to cancel the party.  
She went to Thor first. With the size of the compound, it might have been more efficient to just call him. She found him in the library, surrounded by a flock of dutiful citizens. They had all encouraged the Asgardians to read as much as possible to smooth the culture shock. He was explaining various human oddities in words they could understand. She pulled him aside. “Have you heard about the delay?” he nodded. “Needless to say, the party’s canceled.” He looked like a kicked puppy. “It’s a security risk. I know you trust your people, but we can’t just leave them alone.”  
“No, I know. I’d be lying if I said I am not disappointed, but their safety takes priority.” Thor said. He might make a decent king someday. But surprise surprise, being in charge sucked.  
“Pardon, freyr min, freyja.” It was Tyr. Natasha didn’t know where he had come from. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But my hearing is quite good for my age. I think our leader dearly needs a night of rest. If all you require is an eye to watch us and a hand to keep us in line, I can do the job myself.” He winked and Thor lit up. Nat wasn’t so sure, but Thor spoke before she could object.  
“Tyr- thank you! You spoil me, as always.”  
Natasha pursed her lips. “Do you really trust him with this? No offense, Tyr.”  
“I believe it is, ‘none taken.’”  
“Tyr worked closely with my father. Asgard respects him. And I believe you’ve seen his power for yourself.” Thor said. She couldn’t argue- or she didn’t want to. It was such a rare occurrence that everyone was in the same place. She’d rather deal with the potential consequences herself than cancel completely. Even if she really should. There was something about forgiveness and permission…  
“Alright. But this is on. you.” She said.  
That settled, she could continue making provisions. She would need music, of course. She would need to string together some old playlists, but that would be lacking something. Nat made a judgement call. In for a penny, in for a pound. She made some calls and got a phone number. Peter didn’t pick up at first. Figures. It would show up as an unknown number, and the kid had good gut instinct besides. But not excellent instinct, because he picked up anyways.  
“Hello?”  
“Hello, we haven’t met. I’m Natasha Romanoff- the Black Widow.”  
Peter audibly choked. “U-u-uh Is- is there an emergency? Cause I’m at school but I can leave- It’s lunch, no one would notice-”  
“Calm down, Petya. I just need a favor, one spider to another.”  
“Sure, Miss Uh, Romanoff- whatever you need.”  
She asked him how his taste in music was and he faltered. “I’ve got a party tonight and I’m making a dance playlist, but it’s feeling kind of stale. I need to know what’s hip and happening. You know. Whatever the kids are listening to these days.”  
“Oh,” Peter said, “I can do that. What kind of party is it?”  
“That’s top secret. I’ll send you the playlist. By the way, don’t tell Stark about this.”  
Peter was obviously distressed by that, but Natasha’s tone was final. She let him hang, until he was about to say goodbye.  
“I’m just kidding. You know how to get to the Avengers compound. Be here at eight on the dot.”  
“That’s in four hour- nevermind! I’ll be there! Who’s gonna be there? Can I ask that?”  
“Everyone.”  
“Everyone?”  
“Everyone.”  
After that, her only task was security. The hours passed like nothing when you were sealing off a building. And making pizza. When the hour drew near she pulled up the exterior monitoring system on her laptop. This could be a blessing in disguise. Now the only sensors that would have to mysteriously fail were the gates. No one would notice a few extra heat signatures. She found the exploit and kept the cursor over it, moving to sit in the window, within arm’s reach of a light switch. Soon enough, a black van pulled up a secure three hundred feet from the entrance. Natasha simultaneously hit enter and flipped the light switch. Out of the van stepped an enclave of her favorite war criminals, dressed in their Saturday baddest and making a mad dash for the door. Nat was shocked at herself. How had she not thought of what to wear? She pulled out a slinky red cocktail dress and tried to shimmy it on as fast as she could. Wanda was wearing a red party dress with a puffy sequined skirt. Nat smiled. The squirt was always impinging on her color scheme. Wanda scampered onto the lawn, surprisingly quick for being in heels. Behind her was Steve, wearing actual suspenders and a big goofy smile. Then Sam, in a purple velvet blazer over an eagle t shirt and jeans, and James, in a shredded black hoodie over a hypercolor fluorescent camo shirt. There was… that shrinking guy- full tux on top, juicy couture track pants on the bottom. Kudos on that one. And- Natasha took off running, down the stairs, out the door, and straight into Clint’s huge fur coat.  
“Natasha!” Clint gave her a big bear hug- appropriate considering that ridiculous coat.  
“I thought you were at a safe house with your family!” Nat exclaimed.  
“Well I was, but I could never resist a good party!”  
“We picked him up on the way,” Steve chimed in.  
Just then Vision slid by her and she saw another figure hovering at the gate. Wanda took a running leap at Vis, who was forced to catch her.  
“Petya!” Natasha called. Peter’s head jerked up, and he stood straight as a rod. His eyes darted around the crowd, and he was looking pale. “Get over here” He ran, stopping at a respectful but awkward distance. Natasha hooked an arm around his neck.  
“Oh for God’s sake. Be cool. Everyone, I believe you know Peter.”  
“Queens kid.” James practically whispered.  
“It’s spider boy!” Sam tousled his hair. Peter looked like he was having a hard time processing. But the night was only so long. Nat ushered everyone in. Thor was waiting in the living room/ converted party room, and everyone received their share of crushing hugs. Natasha told them the set up- pizza in the kitchen, chips and etcetera on the counter, maybe not enough booze to get Steve and Thor drunk, but enough to damn well try. Essentially, go wild.  
“Peter. The speakers are all yours.” She indicated to the sound set up.  
Clint clicked his tongue. “You’re giving the music to the kid?”  
Nat shrugged. “I’m too old. I don’t know what’s good anymore.”  
“I mean, how old are you?” Peter asked. Natasha laughed so hard she was worried she pulled something. Clint guffawed.  
“Christ kid, you really don’t know anything.”  
“Don’t be mean,” Wanda chided.  
Peter plugged in his phone. So far, the first song was pretty good. Satisfied, Nat moved on to formally greet Wanda. She smiled and held her by the arms, kissing cheeks like perfect socialites.  
“How is Wakanda treating our witch?”  
“It’s too hot!” Wanda whined. Nat could tell. There was still a bit of sunburn clinging to her cheeks. Such was the fate of a Slavic girl in a tropical world. Nat knew from experience.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Peter getting ganged up on by Steve, James, and Sam. At least one of them seemed well intentioned.  
“Um, sorry about your shield- sir.” Peter stammered.  
“You’re fine, kid,” Sam said.  
“He threw it away anyways.” James ribbed Steve. Natasha was surprised. He must be in an exceptionally good mood. Wanda seemed to notice too.  
“It’s so good to have everyone together again. And everyone’s in such good spirits. You’ve done a great job.” Wanda told her. Nat couldn’t say she wasn’t proud.  
Wanda ditched her again for Vision. She pulled him into the center of the room, twisting and swishing her skirt around. Vision let Wanda move his hands, and even tried his best to bop along a little. Together, they were very shiny. She pointed at them, telling Sam how it warmed the place where her heart should be. Shrink dude jumped in next, (“what’s his name?”-“Scott.”-“I like Scott.”) followed shortly by Clint. From there they fell like dominoes. Natasha could see what was coming a mile away. Sure enough, Steve stepped back to her and offered his hand. Natasha glared at him but accepted that this was a losing battle and took it. He swung her around into the Lindy Hop, probably intending to one up her and draw her out more than actually dance it. She followed him blow for blow, hopping right along. His eyebrows shot up, but he was smiling. She had learned the lindy hop back in her own youth for an infiltration mission. The year wasn’t important.  
James was sitting out with Peter, who was too nervous to move. He looked like he was on the edge of pushing Peter into dancing, but it would be too hypocritical. Natasha was a strategist, she knew how to fix this. She kicked it up a notch, adding some flashy turns and spins but leaving a few mistakes only obvious to someone who knew what they were looking at. It got a round of cheers from the room. The gauntlet had been thrown, and sure enough, James said something to Peter and dove into the fray. He slid up to her and Steve.  
“Alright, alright, I’m cutting in.” he said. Abandoned, Peter was making his way in like a big boy, and his face broke into something trying to be teasing. Natasha relented, stepping back with a wave of invitation. James took Steve’s hand. “This is how you swing dance, amateur.” Peter’s jaw dropped, Steve chuckled, and the pair jumped into a jitterbug that could put Cab Calloway himself to shame. Natasha snuck up beside Peter.  
“Welcome to the inner circle. You’ll be seeing a lot of things the public doesn’t know from now on.”  
She patted him on the shoulder and went back to the kitchen counter, where pizza was fast disappearing and several bottles were uncapped. She called out asking if anyone wanted a vodka martini, already getting out the cocktail glasses. Scott took a seat, asking for shaken, not stirred. Clint’s hand also went up.  
“So you’re Ant Man, right? We’re going to have too many bug heroes around here.” She said. He laughed nervously, like he knew something she didn’t, which she didn’t like at all. He was spared by Clint coming to claim his martini.  
“This coat is hot as hell!” She told him to take his lumps in peace. No one made him wear it. “But it’s like the cornerstone of the outfit now,” he whined. Wanda sat down with them, pouring herself a rum and coke.  
“You could have just worn a normal party outfit, like me. Then none of this would have happened.” Wanda said.  
“Well, I’m not in my twenties anymore. I gotta have something else going for me. Natasha,” he raised his glass.  
“За нас!” she replied, and together they tossed back their glasses.  
Scott scrunched up his nose. “What’s the point of shotgunning a cocktail?”  
“It’s too early for shots, but we can’t not do shots.” Clint replied.  
Natasha objected, opening the vodka again. “It’s never too early for shots.”  
Clint held up a hand. “Hold your horses. Come dance with me first.” Natasha rolled her eyes, but once again, losing battles. She stepped out on the floor again.  
Clint was a bad dancer, but he was doing it entirely on purpose. Natasha danced, but not awful, in a conversation that escalated into a minor dance battle. She went high, he went low. She shimmied, he jived. It wasn’t something she would have done around anyone else, but these were her friends. It was alright to dance once and a while. At the end of it, he grabbed her in a cheesy tango hold, swinging them around the room.  
A voice came from across the room. “Thor! You didn’t invite me?”  
Natasha’s blood ran cold.  
No. Absolutely not. She shoved Clint away from her and turned to see Amora, standing by the island. Thor was already at her side, speaking lowly, but Amora wasn’t listening. Her eyes slid around the room and suddenly she was wearing an elaborate golden gown- the kind you saw at the met gala. Everyone in the room froze.  
Steve spoke up. “Natasha?”  
Nat pressed her lips together and felt her back muscles tense, bringing her to her full height. “Amora. How did you get in.”  
She smiled. “I was a rat.”  
Nat noticed a vent near the ceiling that had been unscrewed. “I would agree but I think I know what you mean.” Around her, everyone was winding up for something, but they didn’t know what. Natasha didn’t know what. Behind her back she crossed her fingers and made a fist with her thumb touching her extended pinky finger. ‘problem- hold position.’ Their guests slowly went back to what they were doing, watching out of the corners of their eyes. Except Peter, who didn’t know the code and continued to stare openly. Nat made her way over to Thor and Amora. She seized Amora’s arm, leaning in close. “You absolutely cannot be here. Leave, before I have to make you.” She murmered.  
Amora rolled her eyes. “You do not have the high ground, hostess. This party is a secret, right? And you want it to stay that way?” Natasha’s grip tightened.  
“шлюха должна знать ее ценность - You are expendable, I can make it so you never speak again-”  
Thor took Nat’s arm, subtly pulling her away. “We would be glad to have you, Amora!” Amora smirked, turning to pour herself a drink. Thor spoke to Nat out of the corner of his mouth. “The only way we’re going to be able to control Amora is to keep her happy. If she doesn’t get what she wants, this will be a thousand times worse.”  
“What is this swill?” Amora was holding a bottle of vodka. Nat took it from her.  
“Mine is what it is.” She glared at Thor but said nothing more, instead uncapping the vodka and taking a swig. She made a ‘go on’ motion with her hand. Thor turned to face the room.  
“Everyone! This is Am-” Amora stepped on his foot, “the Enchantress, a… friend of the palace of Asgard. She’s come to join the celebration.” The others still looked suspicious. Nat sent them a neutral look, which was basically a stamp of approval coming from her.  
Scott bit the bullet. “the Enchantress, huh? Neat name. Don’t worry, I’m new around here too.” Amora smiled elegantly. The song changed over and Wanda lit up, a little too excited to be completely sober anymore.  
“I love this song!” She hopped up and down and went back to dancing. Sam gave Peter, who was on his phone by the speakers, a subtle thumbs up. The crowd gradually accepted it and moved on. Be it the booze, the music, or the rarity of the moment, everyone was willing to get swept up. Amora slid in amongst them fairly seamlessly, chatting and dancing with Scott. That man was a saint.  
Clint came and joined her at the bar. “Who the hell is that?”  
“My biggest headache.” Nat took another long sip of vodka. It would take a lot more to even get her tipsy, so who cared. Damn accelerated metabolic rate. “I don’t know how much you know, but when Thor came back, he brought company.”  
“I heard.”  
“She’s a nightmare.”  
“But she hasn’t done anything serious?” Clint asked. Nat just sipped her drink. “Oh boy.”  
“I have it under control. Just enjoy the party, Clint.” He shrugged, wandering off to talk with Sam. Steve quickly replaced him.  
“Who-”  
“You know what, don’t ask. How are you?” Steve made a mopey face, but she had realized that if she didn’t stop, she would have to explain separately to everyone in this room full of trained operatives. She didn’t want to talk about it.  
“I’m good. Bucky’s off ice, our appeal is filed, we’re doing well, all things considered. T’Challa’s been really good to us. I almost invited him on this trip, but he actually has a full-time job. Unlike me.”  
“Stop that. Self-pity doesn’t help anyone.”  
“It’s not self-pity. I just wish I could be doing something constructive,” Steve huffed.  
“All in good time. It’ll blow over soon.” Natasha felt it was true. She didn’t have any reason too, it was just the things people said, and the way Tony looked sometimes. The winds were shifting. Whether they knew it or not, America wanted its captain back. Steve looked conflicted, but he said nothing. While it would be easy to lose your way in times like these, he was steady as a rock. He had his convictions and his motivation. He would be fine.  
They stayed quiet, just being together as friends and not soldiers, as much as they could. Out of the corner of her eye, Nat watched Amora. She was still talking to Scott- Nat noticed his he was leaning away with his shoulders squared.  
“I’m, uh, flattered, but I have a daughter.” Alarm bells rang in Nat’s head.  
Amora caught his hand, turning it over. “But no wife?” She pointed to the lack of a ring. At this point Natasha marched over to intervene. She physically stepped in front of Amora.  
“This isn’t that kind of party.”  
Amora crossed her arms. “Could have fooled me.” She glanced at Clint. “What dance was that you were dancing?”  
Natahsa was livid, but once again Thor stepped in just in time. Scott had escaped in the interim and back at the makeshift bar. Thor urged her to leave it and go join him, and she decided it was for the better.  
She made him another martini in silence, and slid it to him. “Sorry about that.”  
He shrugged. “Party crashers. What can you do?” Nat agreed, rubbing her temples. Her fun was definitely over for tonight. She just had to make it out with this party intact. She checked the clock. It was only ten. She waved over Peter.  
“Hey. I have a bad feeling this night is going to get… weird. How are you getting home?” She asked.  
He looked at her seriously. “Uber.” That just made Nat feel bad. That’s too much money for a two-hour party.  
“You told your mother you’re staying somewhere tonight?” he nodded. “I can drive you home in the morning. The third room down that hall isn’t being used. If you want.”  
Peter weighed his options and nodded. She slapped his shoulder and told him to get out of here. As he left, he turned back, smiling. “Ms. Romanoff? I had a really good time.” She felt an involuntary tug at the corners of her lips. Peter was a good kid.  
Time to check in. She glanced over her shoulder. Amora was draped over a couch, talking with Steve while Thor hovered. She made eye contact with Thor, trying to impress into him that he was responsible for keeping her in check. Steve belatedly expressed his disbelief that Thor had cut his hair.  
“It was not of my own volition.”  
“There was a time it was almost as long as mine,” Amora chimed.  
“Have you known each other a long time?” Steve asked. Amora’s mouth quirked and Thor coughed.  
“So, Steve, what have you been doing lately?” Thor inquired. Steve rolled with it, generous as always.  
“A whole lot of nothing.” Thor said he doubted that. “I guess I’ve been painting a little.”  
Amora clasped her hands together. “An artist! Everyone loves a man skilled with his hands.”  
Steve went red. “Um, what?” Nat glared daggers at Thor, silently urging him to do something.  
“I’ve always admired the arts. Would you tell me about the artistic tradition of this world? From what I’ve seen, Midgard plays home to many masterpieces.” She purred. Before either of them could step in, James materialized like a shadow, laying a protective hand on Steve’s shoulder.  
“He’s taken.” He said. Amora looked him up and down.  
“Yikes.”  
Steve took a step forward, puffing up. “Excuse me?” behind Amora, Thor frantically dragged a finger across his throat. Steve sighed. “Come on, Buck.” They walked off, and Thor talked animatedly at Amora, attempting to distract her. Steve saw Natasha across the room and mouthed ‘what the hell.’ She mouthed ‘I know’ back.  
Amora flipped her hair and walked right past Thor to Sam. It was finally enough distance that with the music, Natasha couldn’t hear them. But after a minute, body language was enough to tell what was going on. She slammed down her glass and was by their side in an instant. “What did I say. You need to stop soliciting my guests.” Amora raised her chin, and between them the air boiled.  
“Why should you care? We’re all adults. Your guests can make their own decisions.”  
“In case you haven’t noticed, they’ve made their decisions. You’re not wanted here.” Nat’s fingernails were dangerously close to breaking the skin of her palms. She was done. She was so fucking done with Amora’s ego, and her disrespect, and her everything. They were drawing attention, but she didn’t care.  
“Am I supposed to be offended? The banquets I’ve seen make this affair look like a hinterland reception of the country’s greatest vagrants. I’m not here because I desperately want to go to your party, you just bore me.”  
“Oh, go choke on your gilded mead. No one cares about all the fantastic partied you’ve been to! You’re a joke, Amora!”  
Amora’s eyes narrowed, cold as ice. Her whole body solidified like marble. She looked like the fallen goddess she was, disappointed in the folly of man. Disappointed in Natasha.  
“You’re just angry because you want to fuck me.”  
It’s like she was stabbed. In a second Natasha’s emotions hit their ceiling. Her body was consumed by a feeling like the moment when you know you’re about to throw up. And then, static, enveloping her like snow, deadening all sound. Her body moved on its own, like a wind-up toy. Her hips wound and wound and wound. Her lips fell open and a stuttering breath fell out, causing a fall in her chest. Her hand brushed fabric. Her throat quivered. Apparently she was backing Amora against the island, but it was all very far away. She could see Amora’s face, brow drawn, eyes flickering, but her brain couldn’t make sense of it. Her hand held a kitchen knife against Amora’s neck.  
“Woah, woah, woah!”  
“Natasha!”  
“Dégagé!” James shouts. Natasha blacks out. 

When she comes to, she can tell it’s only been a moment. Sam and James and Clint are standing over her. Her eyes are wet. She hasn’t cried in the last decade. “десять лет. У меня не было просрочки через десять лет. ”  
James extends his hand, looking to her for permission. She takes it. “No Russian. Come on Natasha, speak English. Or French, or Mandarin, but not Russian.”  
“почему я не могу говорить на родном языке!”Natasha sobs. Everyone’s looking. She wants to vomit.  
“I need everyone out of here," Sam says. “That’s not a suggestion!” The room clears, except for the five of them. He kneels down to her. “Natasha, we’re here. We’re not going anywhere. I need you to breathe with me, okay.” He breathes deep in and out and Natasha breathes with him, even though she doesn’t want to breathe. Her lungs are putrid. Ruined by the times she choked on cigarettes and steroids and poisons and now-dead politicians’ blood and semen. She doesn’t want that air released. But she does, dragging it in and out. The tears stop.  
“Пожалуйста, не смотрите на меня, ” she pleads. James squeezes her shoulder. She knows what he means. “Please.” It’s all she can bring herself to say.  
“What the fuck are you still doing here.” Clint stands to face Amora. “Leave.” Natasha forces herself to look at her. Amora’s staring at her. When they make eye contact, Amora looks away. Natasha squeezes her eyes shut, and hears the soft click of Amora’s heels fading.  
“Natasha, look at me.” James says. She opens her eyes and sees his are closed. “I’m not looking.” She said nothing.  
“Natasha. Do you know where you are?” Sam asked. She nodded. “Well humor me anyways. You’re in the Avengers compound in New York. You’re safe, Natasha. Hold this.” He took off his blazer and handed it to her. She gripped it tightly, feeling the velvet press into her skin. “Bucky, you’ve gotta leave. This isn’t good for you.”  
Bucky looked frustrated, but he nodded. “See you in a bit, Natasha.” He squeezed her hand. Clint sat down beside her in his place. Sam brought her some water, which she refused, but he left beside her anyways. He kept talking to her, slowly, until her breathing evened out. Clint brought her a blanket and Sam told her that if she wanted to, sitting in the coat closet was an option. She did. It was cool and dark and confined. When the door was closed she took a sip of her water.  
“This is dumb.” She said. She heard Clint laugh through the door.  
“It’s not dumb,” Sam said. “I know plenty of guys who’ve been in combat who just want to sit in a closet after a flashback.”  
“Yeah, I guess you do know a thing or two about soldiers in closets.” She quipped. Sam laughed. She kicked the molding with the tip of her shoe. “It’s just…trivial.” She wasn’t talking about the coat closet.  
“Is it?” Sam asked, and Natasha would have smacked his arm were it not for the door.  
“I fought aliens. I fought a robot army. And then, this is what it takes to break me?”  
“Hey, not broken.” Clint insisted.  
“Where I’m standing, it was pretty messed up.” Sam stated. Nat flinched, remembering again how many people had seen that. “Hey, you still with me?”  
“Yes.”  
After a while, Sam convinced her to go sleep. She told him she needed to let them out, but he just waved it off. She couldn’t sleep. She was trying and failing not to think about it. Amora was right, of course. From the beginning, Nat couldn’t look anywhere but at her. She was no better than any of the others Amora had enthralled. Natasha hated more than anything that the first person she was strongly attracted to, basically ever, had to be her. Look what it had wrought. Natasha had spent years weeding out her conditioning and nurturing her humanity. When it had just begun to sprout, Amora eviscerated it on the dance floor for all to see.  
‘I guess sex is just a bad subject for me,’ she thought. The thought itself was her attempt at using brute strength to break through and control her emotions. She bit down hard. If she could just think about it without panicking- but she was exhausted. She gave up, falling limp on her bed. Sleep continued to elude her, leaving her like Tantalus in the river. She tossed. She turned. Finally, at three am she got up, wandering around the compound. She had Sara open the blinds, and drowned herself in moonlight and silence. The skies were clear, and the snow that had fallen days before had mostly receded. Instead, it was a world of darkened ice, refracting the sky in a million pieces.  
There wasn’t a sound. She thought that all her friends must have left. James was perfectly capable of disabling the security system. But in the living room she found Clint and Sam sleeping end to end on the sofa. “You have rooms, dumbasses,” she whispered.  
She drifted on, checking her stowed weapons and unsealing the wing as she went. She wandered down the hallway, ending up in Peter’s doorway. He was asleep. Nat had made the right call sending him away when she did. She leaned on the doorframe.  
“Little spider, you will not grow up like me. You will not be like me. You will make your own choices and have your own problems.” She would do what she could to make it true. She wasn’t going to let Stark burn the kid out before either of them knew what happened. This child would never see what she had seen. “You are very lucky.”  
She returned to bed. If nothing else, in a few days this would all be over. Then she would never see Amora again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> шлюха должна знать ее ценность - a whore should know her value (yikes!)  
> десять лет. У меня не было просрочки через десять лет- ten years. I have not had a lapse in ten years.  
> Пожалуйста, не смотрите на меня- please don't look at me. :(  
> Freyr/freyja- old norse honorific.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning at eight she drove Peter back into the city. Traffic's a bitch, but she didn't feel like waking him up early enough to beat it, and Natasha was patient. There was no one to care about the cost of gas either. So they sat with all the other commuters on their way to do their duties and collect their bounties.   
Peter seemed perfectly chipper. Evidently he had completely slept through everything. Small mercies. She turned on the radio and asked him passively about school. He seemed to be having an ordinary high school life. He spoke fondly of his friends, offering information freely. Apparently he had just completed a science project with a girl named MJ that had very nearly cost him his eyebrows. He and Ned were working on putting together a new spider suit, but it was slow going. It was going to be tough quitting the old suit when the time came, but he wanted to be completely self-reliant. Though it was a little late for that. The bridge makes her nervous, as always. She drops Peter a block away and he thanks her again. Soon enough she's back at the compound.  
Sam and Clint were still asleep. Vision was untraceable, and Thor was back on king duty. It was a ghost town. That was a beauty and a gift. Unheard, Unseen, just as it should be. Natasha climbs the stairs up to the roof of the compound. From here, the air swallowed the compound whole. The light was pure white and she felt as if it passed through her like glass. It was bitter cold, but that was good for her. She watched the grounds. Thor's ship was still right where it landed. Icicles hand formed on its hard edges. She still hadn't checked it out from the inside, which wasn't really proper form.   
This is what she was responsible for. It was all laid out before her. Just this patch of land. It was the easiest job she would ever have, and the most important. Stark may have bought it and built it, but this was the empire of all her worldly victories and hopes. This was the place her friends would return to, the place where she had stayed. It was her realm to see and hear and know. So of course she knew the footsteps behind her.  
"Good morning, Clint."  
"It's freezing out here. Don't you want a jacket?" he said.  
"No," she returned. "When I was a child, they had a way of testing us in critical times. They would have us stand outside in the courtyard in the winter. We stayed there for hours, just standing, facing front, until at least half of them couldn't anymore, and their legs gave out. Those girls were taken under review. Some came back, some didn't. I don't know what they did with them to determine who was fit and who wasn't. I was never under review." She took a deep drag of the frozen air, and it clawed at her lungs like it wanted out. "It's a vital skill."  
"Natasha-"  
"No, I know what you mean to say. I know I am not that little girl anymore. I know I shouldn't be. But lately, it's as if I'm not even Black Widow. That's the only thing I need to be, if I want any chance of reconciling the number of people I've saved with the number I've killed. So it's time to go back to my foundations."  
"Natasha!" His shout causes her to finally face him. But he's not alone. Amora is there, looking at her inscrutably. Natasha can't even say she's shocked. She's just resigned at how thoroughly she's been thrashed.  
She mutters, 'this is what I mean,' and fumbles a cigarette to her mouth. It was fine. She would quit again when this ended. But Clint snatched it from her anyways, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.  
"She wants to talk to you. Me and Sam think it's a bad idea, but you're an adult and you make your own decisions. If you want her gone, I'll make her leave." He said. For a long moment, she just looked at Amora. The worst has already happened, she wasn't afraid anymore. She was just tired. She was so tired, and it felt like being a nameless girl, falling to her knees in the Russian snow. She nodded.  
Clint was hesitant to leave, but Natasha insisted. She slapped him on the back, telling him she'd be fine, implying by a hair not to doubt her. Then it's just the two of them. Amora stood tall, gold hair whipping in the wind. She was lined with dignity, barely off color with uncertainty by such a small degree she might be imagining it. She raises her chin, a habit Natasha already feels like she knows. "I," Amora rumbles, "do not claim to possess any kind of honor. Such a strict notion of right and wrong should stay in children's tales. But as a woman, I know I have done you wrong. However you wish to make reprisal, I accept it."  
"You what?"  
"I ask that you avoid my face." Amora declared. Hearing it just made Natasha bristle all over again.  
"It is the money maker, huh. How would you keep the camp in your pocket if they weren't falling all over you?" Nat smiles bitterly, and to her surprise genuine fire rises behind Amora's eyes.  
"I have been scrambling for purchase!" she hisses. Natasha is taken aback by the desperation it carries. "Do you know how many enemies I have made in Asgard? I was born into this world with nothing, slated by the gods to die quietly. You do not know what I have done to get where I am today. Asgard would see my head on a pike if they had the choice. I had already burnt through most of those suitable to defend me, and now, Hela has literally burnt our warriors to a crisp, taking the lion's share of my remaining insurance with her! There is no one between me and the axe! All I wanted was a defender to keep me alive, if only for another season!"  
Natasha bites her lip, shaking her head. "And you were ready to brainwash those men to do that to."  
"That was uncouth, even for me." Amora states. "I can't say I haven't done it before. But it is below me."   
Natasha's teeth grit and she turns on her heel, eyes to the sky. "Damn it, I can't stand you, Amora!" Her tone lowered, unsteady. "What are you? It's like you're everything I hate, and everything I should be, and everything I could have been, and everything I want, and then none of that. You just rip me apart like it's nothing. How? What is it about you? Why is it me?"  
"And what are you?" Amora asks. They're both ragged, caught in a mutual orbit and centrifuge. "I see the traces of a seducer in you, so I assumed you were like me, and that you were the one filling my role. But you are nothing like me. I don't know what you are like. You only ever show slivers. Are you killer? You make it out so, but I have yet to see you shed blood. A criminal, yet the heroes of this realm bend a knee to you. More than that, they are loyal. What did you do for that? I can only see fragments, I want to know-"  
"I don't need to be known!"  
"I want to! It's purposeless curiosity but I have made a life off getting what I want. I want to know what you are!" Amora's tantrum stopped abruptly. She tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. "This is not what I'm here for. I came to…apologize. I did not think my words would have such an impact."   
"How could you? You were right." Natasha clenches her gut as she says it, forcing nonchalance. She could hear Sam in her head, saying how it was pretty fucked up. Sure it was. Wasn't the whole damn situation? "This is what you do to me- I say that like we know each other- but even though you don't know anything about me, you can expose all of my weaknesses. I hate it," Natasha bit.   
"I'm sincerely sorry. That's all I can offer you."   
"Yeah, it sure is," Natasha muttered. Amora looked up, searching her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could the building shook with a strange boom. Natasha's head whipped around. As she ran to the edge of the roof, she could see a yellow bubble now surrounded the space ship. She rapid fire called everyone who should have been in the building, but no one replied. She raised her head slowly. "What did you do."  
Amora went wide eyed. "This? This is not me, you were watching me the entire time!" Nat grabbed her wrist, instructing her to repeat it. "It - wasn't - me!" She reiterated. According to her pulse and her pupils she was telling the truth. It wasn't an exact science but Amora was right, she had been watching her the whole time.   
"Where's Loki." Nat barked.  
"I haven't seen him since yesterday afternoon. Otherwise he would have eviscerated me for not bringing him to the party." And thank god she didn't. But that was even more suspicious. She pulled up a holographic map of the compound from her watch, where a red dot was blinking in the basement.   
"Let's move." Nat sprinted to the door, but it was locked. She reeled back and struck the knob with her heel, knocking it clean off. But it still wouldn't open. She rammed the door and it didn't budge. From the feel of it, it was thoroughly barricaded. "It's blocked. Can you clear it?"  
"Not with the muzzle Tyr put on me."   
Natasha glowered unintentionally. "That was just for mind control." Amora shook her head.  
"Keeping my mind in my mid means keeping it in this plane, which means I cannot manipulate ambient magic energy in the higher spheres. It's like when you take the cord of the toaster out of the wall. In this state all I can do is transmute magic and preform illusions and minor feats." Nat cursed under her breath and moved to the edge of the building, looking down its side. The compound was built to be unassailable, and part of that was that not even she could scale its sides. They hadn't planned for someone on the outside needing in, and now there was no humanly possible way of getting down. But this is why you keep secrets.   
Natasha took a few steps back. Amora was prodding her for answers. Now what? She didn't answer. Instead, she broke into a run and vaulted over the rail, jumping into freefall's open arms. One, two, Nat braces herself. Then, a feeling like getting hit by a freight train. The wind was knocked completely out of her, she slammed on her chest and wheezed. She could tell from feel alone that her left ankle and two ribs were broken. She popped her dislocated shoulder back in its socket and tested the ankle. It was a clean break- walkable. She got up, because she wasn't human. She was superhuman.  
"What about me!" Amora yelled down.   
"You're Asgardian, that jump should be nothing!"  
"Half-Asgardian," Amora pronounced. "Why did you think the court cast me aside?"   
There was only one option. Nat yelled for her to jump. If Amora could lift that bowl while depowered, she should be able to help herself a little. She looked taken aback but the next thing Nat knew she was over the banister. Her robe billowed up around her and Nat braced herself yet again. They both went down hard, but they were both intact.   
Amora looked at her strangely, reaching out to touch her temple. "Are you alright?" her hand came away with blood on it. Natasha's brain felt like cotton.   
"I have a concussion. But if my body couldn't heal from that I would have been dead a long time ago." They don't have time to sit around, so Natasha forces herself up again, moving towards the door. Amora follows her cautiously. The door opens on her pin and retina scan.   
From there they took the stairs down to the basement. As the doors slid open she raised her gun, sweeping the room. There was no one there. Lastly, she cracked open the walk-in refrigerator. Natasha cursed under her breath. Loki was on the floor, shivering with his mouth taped over and his hands tied behind his back.   
Amora gasped and kneeled down, untying him. "Who did this to you?" For all her fluttering, she ripped off the tape with no mercy, and he yelped.   
"It was Tyr, the old bastard. I don't know what he wants but clearly he's turned on us."  
"Or he just doesn't like you." Nat said.  
"You do have that effect." Amora followed. She patted him lightly on the cheek. Loki glared but Amora assured him that he was probably right. Nat ordered them to follow her for now. Everything from now was a gamble of time versus resources. She didn't know what Tyr was planning. If she charged in now she would be flying blind with little backup. But time was money. She had to get on that ship before Tyr accomplished whatever he was planning. And how long that would be was a big blank. She needed to focus.   
No one was responding to her calls, so Tyr had presumably incapacitated or isolated every major threat to his mobility. He wasn't the killing type but Nat couldn't say if he would be above it when time ran short or a significant fight was put up. Securing her team mates should be priority. Furthermore, he was on the ship. She needed to know what was on that ship, and she couldn't believe that these two had been paying that close attention.  
"We need to find Thor." She said. Amora snapped and from her hand a green ray appeared like a laser pointer, disappearing into the ceiling.   
"I would be a fool not to keep track of the man whose tolerance keep me alive." Nat's lips quirk for just a second, and she turns, jogging up the stairs.   
They find Thor in a second-floor broom closet. He's bound by enchanted chains, but Amora explains that this is exactly what she means by transmuting magic. She touches them and they shine with warm gold light, then burst into flames and crumble away.   
"Careful!" Thor said, but Amora just chides him for being a big baby.  
"Thor, what's on that ship," Natasha rumbled. Thor briefly panicked but forced it down.   
"Nothing. It's just a ship." He said.   
"The hell it is," Nat said. "Tyr's fortified himself in the ship. There's something in there he wants that's worth allowing himself to be cornered. Are there weapons?"  
"No! It's just a cruiser. There are no valuables either." If his goal was purely to flee, he would already be gone. More concerning was that Thor was clearly hiding something.   
"What's on the ship."   
"it doesn't even matter-"  
"What's on the ship!" she snaps.  
"Banner, the Hulk is on the ship!" It's like someone dumped ice water on her. Her instinctual reaction is panic, which only makes her feel guilty. Bruce was here. She really needed those cigarettes. Her hands settle on her battered temples. Bruce had been… a mistake. She realized that as soon as he was gone. The feeling of losing a comrade was easy to identify. Romantic love was much more opaque.   
"Why didn't you tell me," she growled. Thor looked at her with a kind of soft pity that only made her feel worse.  
"While he was away, the Hulk…overtook his control. The way it is now, he may never turn back." He said.  
"The hell he won't. I'm going in. Thor, I need you to find everyone else." She turned without waiting for a response. Amora still followed her. Nat asked what she was doing, and she said that she would need her to transmute the barrier. Nat waved for her to keep close.  
The barrier around the ship looked kind of like a big yellow soap bubble. As they approached it, Amora twisted her hand and it turned into what appeared to be solid gold. She waved her hand like she was pushing back a curtain, and under it the barrier parted like a disturbed fountain. Natasha eyed her warily but ducked under and into the bubble. "You can go now."  
Amora stepped in herself, and with a flick of her wrist her hand was flesh again, though everything appeared gold tinted. "Listen. I know you hate me. I would hate me too. But Tyr is a sorcerer. You will be much better off with another in kind." She strode forward to the mouth of the ship, but Natasha grabbed her arm.   
"If you stay, you need to follow me." Amora's lips puckered but she acquiesced. Nat led her into the ship, where they quickly ducked into an alcove. It wasn't fast enough. A glowing purple orb rounded the corner, flashing at the sight of them. Nat's hand went to her gun, but Amora beat her to it, running up and crushing it with her bare hands. The light entwined around her arm and sunk under her skin.   
"He'll know we're here now." Amora muttered. That didn't matter if he couldn't find them. Natasha yanked on a grate in the wall, which she was fairly sure was ventilation. It peeled away with an awful screech. She crawled in and Amora followed. It was a tight fit but on hands and knees it was manageable.   
"I don't hate you," Natasha said. She hears rather than sees Amora pause behind her. "The two of us just seem to meet in all the wrong ways. It's not personal." Her tone is measured.   
"The way you look at my chest certainly seems personal." She said. Natasha understood why this woman was widely despised. "Don't be like that. I'm just a notorious tease. But I think I get it. You feel like I could render you useless. That's it isn't it?"  
"I," Natasha bit, "will never be useless. I've destroyed empires. I am deadlier than any hero, and there will always be a use for someone like me." Once again, she heard Amora pause. But this time, it's a full stop. Natasha stops as well.  
"Amora, you beautiful idot," Amora murmured. "All this time my champion has been right in front of me!"   
Natasha's head whipped around, straight into the wall of the duct. For a moment her sense of balance receded, and her perception narrowed to the cold of the metal under her hands. The concussion was still there, then. There was something painfully light crawling through her veins, too. Her throat was tight. "No."  
"Why not?" Amora asked, genuinely taken aback. "I will be the most talented lover you've ever had." Natasha felt a genuine flush of heat to her face. They really didn't have time for this. Natasha sighed, breathing consciously.   
"I," she said, "will never let myself be used again."   
"Oh." Amora's voice dropped. "Oh, but you misunderstand. Natasha, how do you think I burned all those bridges?" She stopped. Unhelpfully. Nat should keep moving. Before them metal stretched into a darkness that obscured like fog. She should just keep moving. "I'm a rather poor enchantress. I get attached." Natasha was paralyzed, which only made Amora bolder. "So I usually stay away from anything that could actually interest me. And you… fascinate me. Did you ever stop to think that I might be as preoccupied with you as you are with me?"  
Natasha was panicking. Her shoulders tightened and her eyes scanned the tunnel unconsciously. From the darkness, she heard a muted roar. She shot forward, kicking out a panel and whispering for Amora to stay put. She dropped into the room below, gliding inscrutably from chamber to chamber until she came to a large iron door. There was a growl. Natasha took hold of the lock, popping it open with a pin. She pushed the door open slowly, but it still groaned in an unholy chorus with the voice within. The Hulk was standing against the far wall, beating on it with closed fists. There was a thick chain around his neck, probably enchanted. It looked like it was biting into his skin. He turned around at the sound of the door, lunging forward blindly, howling. He was stopped by the chain barely a foot from her. He didn't scare her. There was too much in her head to leave room for fear of him. She should reach out to him, coo and soothe him until he transformed. The taming of the beast was a part of her expectations. But she did not have it in her.  
"Bruce, I've had a really bad week." He continued to wail unintelligibly. His fingers scrapped at the steel floor and his teeth gnashed. She could see his molars and his breath was foul. "Bruce!" He took a swipe at her, and she tumbled back to avoid it. "Behave yourself! You're not a monster! You're a conscious, free willed individual and you're responsible for your actions like everyone else!" the Hulk grabbed his head and keened. "You can't just hide behind 'the Hulk' anymore. So stand! Down!"  
As she says it he does, falling back on the floor so hard the ship shakes. He convulses, not only in movement but in body, contorting and flashing green and until he's just a man again. Natasha moves to his side, but doesn't stoop down to take his hand. He looked at her, dazed and scraped, and chuckled weakly. "tough love." Natasha's face didn't move a muscle.  
"Do you know where Tyr is?"  
"No." Bruce wheezed. "Natasha?" He looked at her, trying to prompt some response. So uncertain. Natasha sighed. More and more things she didn't have time for.  
"We need to talk."  
"It's fine, Nat."  
"No it's not." Bruce started to object again, but she cut him off. "We don't have time Bruce, and I need to fix this." He nodded stiltedly. Natasha's eyes softened. It felt like all her fumbling attempts to become 'human' again ended just like this. Were people doomed to hurt each other? She needed to be quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. "I wasn't in love with you." Bruce winced, but she pressed on. "I loved the idea of you. I loved that you loved me. But I wasn't in love with you. I liked that you made me feel in control, but the more time I'm, you know, with people, I'm realizing that's not how it's supposed to work. I need to do this on my own. I need to become strong on my own."  
Bruce smiled sadly. "Agh, it hurts. But only because it's too true. I really… neither of us are exemplars of stability. At least we're trying." She nodded. Bruce was so sweet. The ship was quiet as the witching hour. He leaned against the wall. "Do you think… relationships are possible for us?" Natasha thought of Clint, with his wife and children, the kitchen in which she had held Bruce's hand. The light had been yellow and soft. She could hear wind rustling the fields and the fall of an axe which harmed no one, and her soul tumbled trying to grab hold of the moment. She thought of Clint, somewhere in the compound, in the thick of things all over again.   
"I don't know." Love… was not a game or a debt. It was dangerous.   
Bruce steadied himself, gathering his dignity. "I think so."   
She nodded, unsure what else to do. She told him that she would come back for him, and slid back into the guts of the ship. Time was short. Tyr was waiting.


	5. Chapter 5

Amora didn’t press her anymore. She was probably picking up on Natasha’s awful mood. Without her chatting, the ship was deadly silent. It was strange. She couldn’t wrap her head around what Tyr was doing. That alone made her think it was a trap.  
She wasn’t moving blindly. It wasn’t much, but she had been combing the ship section by section. It mostly looked the same. For a ‘cruiser’ it was remarkably sparse. The walls were made of the same dark metal all over. There was a sour smell in the air that was something like exhaust and still water. But it seemed like it hadn’t always been like this. Pulsing lights still lined the halls in sections, and inlays in the walls had bronze fixations for items that weren’t there. Thor had told her that in their long voyage to earth, they had had to pawn off chunks of their valuables for food and water. They had managed to avoid losing anything really precious. Once she had showed an older Asgardian woman how to make a phone call, and in exchange she read her the history of the east quarter of Asgard, which was kept by her family engraved on a ruby the size of your thumbnail. It wasn’t any information of use to her, but there were some wonderful stories.  
They had closed out most of the ship. There was only one viable option left, the ‘throne room’. Honestly, she should have just gone there first. Ego was predictable that way. She pressed her back against the doorway, motioning for Amora to do the same. She could hear cloth moving and the ship’s interface bleeping cheerily. This was a fairly bad set up. The room was wide open space, and Tyr was on the other side of it. She had run out of cover. The only way to control the situation would be in her attitude. That was fine. She wanted answers anyways.  
She leaned over, whispering ‘stay’ in Amora’s ear, and slid behind the bulkhead. “Tyr,” she called. There was a long pause.  
“Yes.”  
Natasha waited. After a minute, some pump or engine or such whispered in decompression on the other side of the room. She took the opportunity to silently slide around the doorframe, so when Tyr looked back she was already leaning casually against it. She could have gotten closer, but the shock might have made him do something stupid. He crooked one brow, looking at her sideways, and she spoke up again. “What inspires a man to make so many bad decisions in one day?”  
Tyr shoulders rose and fell, mouth thinning underneath his beard. He made no motion against her, aside from the oppressive force of his own agedness. “Responsibility. Pay no mind to it Freyja. I mean no harm.”  
“I hope not. There’s a man here, he has a wife and children. The other is a doctor. More importantly, they’re my friends. For own sake, I hope you haven’t hurt them.”  
“I have not touched a hair on their heads. This is not an attack. It is simply time for us to go home. We’ve overstayed our welcome and we cannot expect your species to accommodate us.”  
She crossed her arms, letting her finger rest on the pistol in her jacket. “And Thor wouldn’t have abided by that, so needed him and all his allies out of the way. Tyr, this is a coup.”  
Tyr raised both his arms from under his cloak. His left ended just after the elbow. The skin was knotted with pink scar tissue which peeled up his bicep in long drags. Above his arms his staff manifested from thin air. Her grip on the pistol tightened.  
“If it is a coup, then a coup is what Asgard needs. Thor is young, there are things he hasn’t seen. When Odin decided to wage war to bring Asgard glory, I was there beside him. When he decided to end that chapter and imprison Hela, I was there beside him. I gave my hand to kill her hound. I did it to keep Asgard safe, and I am not alone. Our warriors have given their lives in droves on that land. We cannot abandon that for a paltry life on a planet that does not want us.”  
It was too late. If he had wanted this to go peacefully, he should have talked with Thor in the light of day. As it was, he was putting her home and her family in danger. There was no coming back. She drew her weapon, firing at his shoulders and edging forward. The bullets simply disappeared with high pitched pings, but it was enough of a distraction that she was able to get close. Tyr swung his staff and she caught it in one hand. The white wood shuddered and it transformed into a white snake, fangs extended. It merely grazed her before she snapped its neck, turning back into splintering wood. She swung the jagged club at his head, where it stopped short of his face by what felt like thick air. She took the opportunity to kick his kneecap. He gritted his teeth but didn’t waver. He was solid as marble, despite his looks.  
Tyr fought like a glacial movement. His movements always reached conclusion, Natasha had to focus on keeping out of the way. It was clear he was a soldier. He was habitually prioritizing gaining ground, slowly but steadily pushing her back. He had magic to counter any strike she made. After he started ricocheting her bullets, she gave up on the gun altogether. The way to adapt for this was to strike fast rather than hard. If she could put up an overwhelming offense, she might be able to create her own opening. Through this strategy she managed to knock him flat just once, but in an instant he flipped back on his feet with an athleticism he seemed much too old for.  
When she had the chance, she drew dual knives from her boots. He reached out, and the hilts turned hot as fire. Natasha laughed, though it sounded more like a growl. Pain was just a feeling. She would drop these knives when he cut off her hands. As she reared back her arm, he stared intensely at her, not even giving her the satisfaction of surprise. He caught the blade with s spectral gauntlet, twisting it. Natasha ducked with the flow of it and struck out for his thigh, but she was met again by that honey thick air.  
If it kept up like this, the fight would come down to a competition of stamina. She couldn’t guess which of them would come out on top if that were the case. Natasha was a supersoldier, and she had spent all that time standing in the cold Russian snow, outlasting mother earth herself. But Tyr was still Asgardian. It was a coin still suspended in the air. She needed to make a decisive blow, fast.  
The moment came as Tyr started to corner her against the wall. She realized that he couldn’t see that advance was a hollow gambit. He was thinking linear, so she should be multi directional. No sooner than she thought the maneuver, her body was already executing it. She jumped and drove both feet into his chest, pushing off into a flip. Her boots connected with the wall, and she propelled herself over him. She clotheslined him. Her arm hooked around his neck as he staggered back, and as her body swung with the momentum, she drove a knife into his back. For good moment, she shoved their bodies apart, both hitting the floor.  
As she hit the ground, balance left her and the edges of her vision swam. She wheezed, urging down nausea. Slowly, the picture came back into focus. It was bright. A burning light hung in the air to deliver her. It wasn’t enough.  
The consuming glare was cut through by flashing gold and shadow. A laugh resonated in the burning air. Not even a laugh- a cackle. A mad, musical cackle. Amora stood in front of her, Hair and clothing whipping about as the light wove around her, lifting her up. Sigils rose from her skin, and quickly were consumed by green sparks like a fork in a microwave. There was a deafening pop-ping, and Amora’s arms ignited with green fire. Natasha couldn’t see her face, but she had an idea of that look. Her skirt went up in flames, replaced with a dress for which ‘ball gown’ was an insult. Green silk ribbed with gold dripped over piles of tulle. In her left hand, she manifested a gilded executioner’s sword. She turned aside and Natasha could see that her eyes were literally ablaze. This was not a woman who needed protecting.  
“I’ve been waiting for this, old man!”  
“Heathen.” Tyr muttered. He didn’t spare any other fanfare, binding his shattered staff and shifting into a fortified stance. But before he could make a move, Amora flung him back through the wall, which caved like paper.  
“We were doing so well. You and your lot could call me little names and I could give you a little trouble. It was plain copacetic. But what have you done now?” she sneered. Natasha scrambled up and vaulted through the wall, trying to keep low as magic started to fly. She quickly lost track of what was going on. The light hurt her eyes. At one point she thought she saw a golden tiger lunging at Tyr, which was a hell of a trick.  
There was no way to intervene. But it also looked like Amora didn’t need the help. She was beating Tyr at his own game, forcing him down the corridor. What Nat didn’t know was why. She staggered along behind until she realized she could see sunlight. With one fiery column, Amora bunted Tyr onto the lawn. The sky was blue, the bubble was gone. In the patch of sky directly above them, the stars were out, though it was mid-day. More important was what was before them- what seemed like all of Asgard, with Thor at the head. Tyr stumbled to his feet. Behind Thor, Brunhilde cracked her neck.  
There was a moment of tense silence. Natasha stuck around the open hanger in case she needed cover. Thor spoke. “I’ve been told you want to take us back.” He doesn’t say home, or Asgard. The undefined meaning of that defined place hangs there. “We cannot do that.”  
Tyr looked older now than ever. His mouth firmed, but his eyes still showed sadness, murky and deep. “Thor, I knew you as a child. Because of that I know that in many ways, you still are a child. The mantle of King is heavy for you yet. Let your elders lift your burden. I can still restore us to our natural place in this universe.”  
“Child or not, fool or not, he’s the child and the fool we choose to follow,” Brunhilde said. The crowd stood tall, weighted gazes cast down upon Tyr.  
“My friend, I know these times weigh greatly on us. But there is no going back. There is nothing to return to anymore. The place… or the time. We can only go forward,” Thor said. Just like that, it was over. Tyr sighed and sat on the grass. Thor sat across from him, and they entered a quiet exchange she couldn’t hear. But it looked like she shouldn’t.  
“Damn. I was hoping he wouldn’t get her in time. I wanted to cut the old fool’s head off.” Amora had managed to sneak up beside her. Her still smoking sword was slung over one shoulder. Natasha didn’t say anything. She was still processing. She lost. But they won. How was she supposed to feel about that?  
“Did you- How-” Amora held up a cell phone with two fingers.  
“I can solve problems without magic too. Glad to see I can leave you speechless,” Amora grinned, arching a perfect eyebrow. Before Natasha had the chance to response, the adrenaline finally left her system, and the weight of her compounded injuries came crashing down on her. She sat down on the hull of the ship before her feet came out from under her. As the static dissipated from her head, she could see Amora leaning over her. She threw her arm around her back to support her and brushed Nat’s hair out of her face, leaving Nat’s skin on fire. Behind Amora’s head the noon sun threw a blinding veil. She thought about what Bruce had said, what she didn’t know if she did or didn’t believe. She remembered a brilliant yellow light through linen curtains. She saw a sunrise over Russian snow, telling her she had survived. She thought of many other brilliant things in a long life she had barely begun to live. Amora was looking at her, and she felt like a comet burning up in atmosphere. There was only one way, and it was forward.  
Natasha spoke barely above a whisper. “What if…” Her voice came out husky and hollow, shaking despite her best efforts. “… against all my better judgement…I want to.” Her hand clenched around a stray pipe, denting it. Her phrasing had left Amora a lot of leeway to mess with her, but it was all she could bring herself to say.  
Amora looked floored, but she quickly stowed it, clasping Natasha’s hand between hers and looking her in the eyes. “Then I am yours.”  
Natasha didn’t know where to go from here. In fact, she was utterly lost. For once, she resigned herself to gravity.  
Now again harkened her broken ribs. The pain must have shown on her face, because Amora redoubled her fussing.  
“I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.”  
“Here.” Amora drew Natasha’s arm over her shoulder, letting her lean on her as they limped back into the compound. She was surprisingly gentle.  
Her bed was the best thing she ever felt. The last thing she was conscious of was the weight of Amora on the bed beside her.

 

There was a quiet song in the air. A soft hum, like a lullaby. Natasha’s eyes slid open. Amora was there, fingers looping in Natasha’s hair. She looked awfully pleased with herself. Or awfully pleased with Natasha.  
“How are you feeling, my champion?” she asked. Natasha grunted, pushing herself up and cracking her neck. She lifted her shirt, looking over her shoulder into a mirror. The bruising was already gone. Belatedly she noticed Amora eyeing her exposed skin. Heat flooded her face as she realized how excessive the pose probably looked. She didn’t do it on purpose.  
“I’m fine. I’ll have to take it easy on the ankle for a couple days, but the rest is already healed.” Natasha wondered how long she had slept. It was light out, but there was no telling if it was the same day.  
“Thank the gods.” In an instant Amora was curled around her space like a snake. She was barely touching her, but somehow she made it seem consuming. Natasha’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.  
“May I kiss you?” Amora murmured. God, Natasha wanted her to, but there was no way she could say it. She was a deer in the headlights, so to say. Her hand found Amora’s, squeezing it and trying to convey the words she was choking on. Amora smiled, but not wide and cocky like Nat had come to expect. Just meltingly warm.  
And then Amora kissed her, and Natasha thanked a lot of gods she didn’t even believe in. Amora was an excellent kisser, of course. But Nat was no slouch either. She gave her all, using all her dirtiest tricks despite the fact that what Amora could do with her tongue was driving her out of her mind. But Amora wasn’t keen on playing fair either. Her whole body pressed up against Natasha. Her hand crept up through Natasha’s hair, closing into a fist. Nat exhaled hard at the tug.  
Amora wormed her knee between Natasha’s legs. Nat didn’t know what kind of reaction she expected from herself, but what she got was intensely aroused panic. She was out of her depth. “Wait,” she rasped. Amora obliged, pulling back immediately but keeping her hands tangled in Nat’s hair, breathing hard. “I don’t… know what I’m doing.”  
Amora giggled. “Your first time, dear heart?” she teased. Nat let the pause hang a little too long and her eyebrows shot up.  
“No,” she firmly corrected. “Not even close. But…” well, Amora had wanted to know what she was. “I was raised to be an espionage and assassination operative for another country. Seduction was a part of the job. Since I defected, I haven’t really…”  
There was more unsaid than said, but recognition struck Amora nonetheless. “I am sorry. I have spoken callously.” She grasped Natasha’s hands. “Not just now. But also, that is not sex.”  
“Yeah.” Natasha willed herself to relax, but she was overwhelmed.  
Amora must have seen it in her. “I drew a bath not long before you woke. You should wash Tyr’s blood off. See how you feel then.” Natasha acquiesced without comment and let Amora guide her to the bathroom. Amora gave her a light push through the door, and Natasha wanted her touch back instantly. But Amora was right, she needed to cool off.  
The bath water was a rosy pink. Iridescent bubbles drifted in lazy circles. It was pretty and fluffy in a way that didn’t particularly suit her, but the water was hot and slowly eased the tension out of her muscles. Besides, it smelled nice. She closed her eyes, at peace for the first time in what felt like a century. In her subconscious the ‘mission’ was already parceled as completed, and she was no longer in the mental space of active engagement. But it still gnawed at her that it had just ended like that. She shouldn’t trust that Tyr would know his place. She shouldn’t be prepared to accept what was, factually, her defeat.  
She stared blankly at the door. Even when she failed, Amora had been there. Thor had been there. She guessed that was what working as a team meant. When these things happened, she would have her family there. People there to bring her in from the cold. So maybe, just maybe, it was alright to rust a little. Nat ducked under the water.  
Speaking of rust…  
Surfacing, Natasha checked herself. She was fine now. Furthermore, Amora was on the other side of that door. Amora who Nat had been hot for since the moment she saw her. Amora whose knee was between her thighs a few minutes ago. Amora. Just fucking Amora. She half smiled. What was she doing? Stepping out, she shrugged on her black silk robe. She adjusted so it had had copious slack, showing more of her torso than it hid. Hopefully that would do the talking for her. Before she could second guess herself, she opened the door.  
She leaned on the doorway, already more nervous than she had any right to be. Her shoulders were stiff, body language cautious in the way of a wild animal. She looked Amora in the eyes, again Amora seemed to get her meaning. Her eyes dropped to Natasha’s chest, and Nat willed down a blush. Damn pale Russian skin.  
“Well hello there,” Amora breathed. For Natasha, the words still wouldn’t come. But Amora continued to spoil her, grabbing her by the waist and swiping her thumb over Nat’s jaw. “I need to know if this is alright.” Natasha nodded, though it was barely visible. She was so timid it was embarrassing. It didn’t suit her. But she had never acted on her own desires, and she wanted Amora so bad she didn’t know where to start. She was stupefied under every touch. “Let me take care of you” Amora murmured. She kissed her, less frantic this time. Amora was playing with her food. she sucked on Nat’s lip languidly. But she was getting too excited to keep up the act. She kissed down Natasha’s neck, leaving a likely hickey, and Nat exhaled sharply as Amora’s hands crept under her robe. Natasha was trying to kiss her slow and deep, but concentration went out the window as Amora’s fingers splayed out over Nat’s breast. Amora had pinned her to the wall, and her hips rocked impotently against Nat’s.  
“I’m not feeling patient. Forgive me if I’m moving fast,” Amora said.  
She yanked off the tie on Natasha’s robe. Then, almost as an afterthought, she tore off her own shirt. She drew Nat’s hands to her waist, looking at her with lust that threatened to devour her. Swearing, Natasha unzipped Amora’s skirt and pushed it off, before pulling her into another crushing kiss.  
Amora dropped to her knees. Natasha’s heart only beat this fast after receiving a shot of pure adrenaline. Amora grazed her inner thigh with her fingers and her skin lit up like and electrical grid. And finally, finally, Amora pushed two fingers inside her. Natasha’s hips bucked and she gasped shakily. Amora watched her with lust darkened eyes from under her long eyelashes. And then, breaking from the trance, she pressed her soft lips against Nat’s cunt. She sucked on her clit and Nat’s voice cracked. Amora was too good. Her mouth was exactly as talented as advertised. Nat had never been like this, felt like this, and here Amora was, taking her apart like it was a vocation. Her tongue was pure velvet sin. Silky hair shifted against her thigh as a silkier mouth pressed into her. Natasha squirmed, covering her mouth with one hand. But with her free hand, Amora laced their fingers together in an unspoken command. Natasha let out a flustered groan which only made Amora fuck her fingers into her faster. Suddenly she was so close, and there was nothing she could do but let go. She shuddered and came around Amora’s hand.  
Amora was up again in an instant, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her sweetly. “You did so good baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” she murmured. Natasha breathed heavily, still stunned. she kissed Amora tentatively, holding her delicate neck. Amora looked at her like she was lucky, and it struck her right through the heart. She flopped onto Nat’s bed, reaching out for her, and Nat obeyed, twining their legs together. Amora was so soft and smooth. Amora’s hands panned across Natasha’s back, obviously enjoying the muscle there. Her touch refused to stay innocent. Amora hugged her, pressing their breasts together. She whispered in Natasha’s ear. “I’m yours, you know. You can do anything you want.”  
It lit a low heat deep in her gut. Anything. This was part of what had made Amora so anomalous. Nat had wanted to touch her from the beginning. That had never happened before. She wanted Amora like she had never wanted anything. Her arms slid around Amora, nuzzling her face around her neck. Amora seemed caught off guard, but not for long. Nat’s hands panned across Amora’s back. Nat grabbed a handful of her ass and Amora laughed lowly. She felt up the planes of Amora’s body, wandering without destination. She slid her hands up to her breasts, fingers slotting around her nipples, and Amora whined impatiently as she toyed with them and threw a leg over her hip, trying to gain friction. Nat was merciful and reached down to press her fingers into her. As she pumped inside her, Amora let out soft mewling sounds. Nat reached around the back of her neck, giving her light open mouthed kisses, not wanting to stop her voice. Amora held her close. She moved against her, soft edges sliding rhythmically.  
Nat twitched as Amora’s hand, previously pressing into her back, snaked down to touch her. Through her own distraction, Amora smiled devilishly. “You’re already this wet again?” she said. Nat didn’t comment and instead pulled her into a deep kiss. But suddenly Amora rolled over her, pushing her hips into the bed. “I changed my mind. I want to have you until you can’t remember your own name.”  
Nat couldn’t say she would put up a fight about that. Amora had barely touched her and she was hot all over again. Still. “You haven’t-”  
Amora shut her up with a kiss. “There will be plenty of time for that. Just let me take care of you. Here, keep your legs open.” Her hands pushed apart the insides of her thighs, and a broken sigh escaped Nat’s throat. That was just embarrassing, but Amora didn’t heckle her for it. She lifted Nat’s hips and their slits together with a horribly lewd glide. At first Nat didn’t think she was serious. But when Amora rolled her hips, Nat stopped thinking all together. Amora chased down pleasure like it was her job. When she rocked against her, she felt every jolt up her whole body. The view wasn’t bad either. Amora looked down at her, eyelashes fanning over ruddiness high in her cheeks. Her tits bounced with her movement, and Nat could feel her nipples getting harder, and where they were joined getting sloppier as she got wetter. Her back dragged against the sheets. She grabbed at them, needing a grip from the way Amora was looking at her, the way her hands held her hips so tightly. It was so much. She was desperately close, but obviously not getting there.  
“Please,” Natasha rasped, and Amora grinned.  
“Please what?” She batted her eyes and Natasha looked at her desperately, mouth opening but nothing coming out. There was no way. “I’m kidding, come here.” Natasha clung to her as she rubbed her off, finishing her in a few careful touches. Nat jerked in her arms, completely limp. Amora fell back, dragging her with her under the blanket, cocooning her in fabric and soft touches.  
She giggled, and hugged Nat close. Nat huffed a bleary laugh as well, combing her fingers through Amora’s hair. She was warm. Natasha’s muscles were hyper relaxed, still thrumming with feeling. She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It was warm and soft and Amora was still holding her, and Natasha had a feeling she was going to get spoiled.  
Amora threw her legs over the edge of the bed, tying Natasha’s robe around her. “Come back,” Nat whined. See, it was happening already.  
“Just a second.” She lifted the blinds, leaning her hands on the window sill. The shape of her was lit up by red light. She curled up against Nat again, and Nat wondered how much time had passed.  
It was sunrise, gold as victory, over her home.

 

 

 

 

 

“Ow! Easy with that!” Clint rubbed his mouth, now raw from freshly ripped tape. Bruce winced in sympathy. Sam just shrugged, opening a pocket knife to get at the rope around Clint’s feet.  
“You’re fine.” He said.  
“I’m fine? I’ve been here for hours! I can’t even feel my fingers anymore!”  
“It doesn’t look like frostbite yet, if that helps?” Bruce said.  
“Sorry man, we thought you were inside.” Sam said. It’s where he had been. Thor had found him locked in a bathroom not long after the main action went down. Not that Sam had known it had gone down. Now he was looping Clint in, completing the circle. The two of them held him up as they related the tale, and they started to amble across the scorched lawn. The spaceship was torn to shreds. Chunks of debris had gouged out large chunks of earth. Nothing was smoking anymore, though. Small victories.  
Overhead there came a whirring. The wind chopped across their heads, blowing up shredded grass. A helicopter descended onto the roof of the compound. It was four floors up, so Sam couldn’t see it that well. But as the passenger stepped out, he could just make out the face as Tony. He could hear him, too.  
“What the fu--”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!
> 
> (if the 'post credits scene' is too janky pls tell me)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my playlist for this fic [here](https://soundcloud.com/user-120695953/sets/the-serpent-and-the-apple)


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